Roslynd
by ThatRandomHunter
Summary: This was it. I was finally going to get away, to escape this twisted, nightmarish scene that was my life. I took my dad's hunting bow and dagger for self-defense and hunting, grabbed some clothes and I was gone. Background story for my OC Rosylnd from "Fitting In".


This was it. I was finally going to get away, to escape this twisted, nightmarish scene that was my life. I took my dad's hunting bow and dagger for self-defense and hunting, grabbed some clothes and I was gone. Well, I thought I was. Of course he would follow me, why wouldn't he? A drunken, stumbling lump of horror lumbered towards me, calling my name.

"Do not take one more step," I spoke. I should have known better. You can't reason with drunks. As he got closer, he raised his hand as if he was about to slap me. For once, I didn't flinch. I wasn't going to deal with this anymore. "See you in hell." I growled. Instead of feeling his hand on my face, he felt my blade in his stomach. I should've ran, but I didn't. I watched my father bleed out. I didn't enjoy it, but I also didn't regret anything. He couldn't hurt me anymore. Unfortunately, I was sorely mistaken. Okay, maybe that ended on a bad note. The rest of my life wasn't any better. Just to prove my point, let's take it back to the beginning.

I was born Roslynd Marie Allans. My mom called me Lindy, which I hated. It didn't matter very much, she was never home. She had been having an affair since I was two. Finding that out literally _broke_ my dad. He turned to drugs and alcohol.

"Roslynd, come here." He slurred his words when he spoke. He was wasted.

"Yes, daddy," I responded and walked over to him.

"Where's your mother?" He asked. I replied that I didn't know, and that was the first time he hit me. Over the years, things at home only got worse. I loved school, though. When I wasn't in class, I was in the library. I loved reading. I'd stay until closing and walk home just so I didn't have to see my father. It wasn't that hard. I just slipped in while he was passed out and slipped out before he woke up. I was on my own, but it was okay. My first year of junior high, my mother died in a car crash. My dad didn't come to the funeral. I didn't cry.

The same year, I met my best friend, Shawn. He was in my class, and he volunteered with me at the library during lunch. He didn't know anything about my dad. I specifically remember this one day, we were eating lunch in the library courtyard and out of the blue he told me he wanted to learn how to hunt.

"Let's learn!" I exclaimed. "My dad used to hunt. He has a couple bows and daggers I'm sure he wouldn't mind if we used!" It wasn't a lie. He would be too drunk to care. Shawn looked hesitant as he thought about it, but then his eyes gleamed with anticipation.

"Let's do it!"

I told him to meet me outside after school, and we walked home and around the back to my shed. In all honesty, I had no idea how two middle school kids were going to teach themselves how to use weapons without killing themselves, but we did. My dad had two hunting bows, a longbow and a recurve bow. I preferred the longbow, so I took that. Shawn took the recurve, and we both took daggers. We practiced all summer and the next school year before we really felt that we were ready to hunt something. After a quiet day, a wild coyote almost got Shawn. Before it could, I shot it between the eyes.

He was never the same after that. He was distant. He didn't want to hunt again. A couple of months later, he was diagnosed with Leukemia. I started skipping school to sit by him in the hospital. I read to him every day, I stayed overnight all the time. I was there, holding his hand when he died.

"Thank you," he told me.

"For what?" I asked. I was holding back my tears.

"For being the best hypothetical sister anyone could ever have," he murmured. I blinked the tears out, kissed his cheek.

"You're welcome, big brother," I whispered. I wasn't sure he heard me, but he smiled. That was the last time I saw his smile. When I left that hospital, I decided it was time to go. My only reason to stay was gone. There were so many things that I should've said to him, but I didn't.

That was the day a grief-stricken teenager murdered her drunk father. That was also the day that her dead, drunk father stood up and tried to eat her. He was the first zombie I encountered. I hoped that there wasn't more. I was scared out of my wits and I was alone. That's when I saw it. They were _everywhere_. I didn't believe what I saw. Zombies? Those were only in horror films and stories. Just another lie I told myself. This was real. That was when I knew I had to find other people. I wasn't going to make it on my own. I went to the library, and found the only adult that I had ever trusted, Mrs. Alixx, the librarian. We got in her car, grabbed her family and drove until we ran out of gas. We were in the middle of nowhere. We had to set camp. It didn't take long to realize that fire drew the zombies from miles away, and so did noise. The family had numbers, but none of them had combat experience. They couldn't defend themselves. To me, they were dead weight. After a week with them, I split. I was on my own again. At first, I was unsure, I was scared. Then, I realized that my entire life was just a crash course in how to survive the apocalypse. I knew how to feed myself, I had weapons, clothes, and I could hide in small places. My plan all along was to run away and be on my own. The zombies were the only surprise.

Eventually, I found a brand new dumpster that had never been used, and it was perfect. I set up an "alarm" system with some rope I found and hubcaps strung around it. If a zombie came close, I would know it. That was my home for at least two months, until I came back from a hunt one day to find it surrounded. I had to leave. I spent a couple more weeks alone in the woods, making a new alarm system around some trees every night. I learned how to make my own arrows from tree bark. One day, I stumbled across a small neighborhood. It was completely empty. I knew I needed to get in one of the houses when the clouds started rolling in. The house I chose was empty of all humans, alive and undead. I went in the bathroom and climbed into the cabinets under the sink and waited while everything around me was destroyed. I closed my eyes, waiting for death to come, but it didn't. When the wind stopped, I stepped outside. Everything but the house I was in and the one next door had been ravaged by the tornado. I decided I would stay here for a while, at least until I could recuperate from the shock and lack of sleep. I barricaded the doors, laid down on the floor, and I cried. I cried all night long. I didn't know how long this could continue.

That's my story. A story of endless pain and suffering. A story _begging _to be told. A story with nobody to listen.


End file.
